The Truth
The swallow knows the calendar, divides the year by the guidance of an innate wisdom. It can dispense with the variable moon’s warning.
According to natural science, the beauty of the swallow is its body’s constitution for flight, a proportion between the means and the end, between the method and the result, a Socratic idea.
The swallow covers continents in a single day of travel and has known the measure of the terrestrial orb since long ago, anticipating the infallible dragons of myth.
A delirious astronomer was pondering on his isle of pines and rocks, a present from a king, about the rings of Saturn and other wonders of space and about the elemental spirit of fire, the restless phosphor. A teleological prejudice had inspired in him the thought of situating the exile of condemned souls within the wheel of the sun.
He recovered the human feeling of reality amid a warm springtime. The swallows habituated to circling the monuments of a deceased kingdom, erected according to a primordial arithmetic, rose to the rigorous clime and spoke into the wise ear the solution to the enigma of the universe, the secret of the impudent sphinx.
Las formas del fuego (1929)
{ José Antonio Ramos Sucre, Obra completa, Caracas: Biblioteca Ayacucho, 1989 }
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